128 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



voyant's vision, or a something or a somebody, who 

 has discovered that this island is full of the cap- 

 tain's gold. 



A company has been formed, and I read they 

 intend .digging up the entire island. I hope they 

 may find "millions in it," but have my doubts. 

 Two hundred years is a long time ; and Capt. 

 Kidd might have been a mythical character, or at 

 all events, if he was not, there is not much doubt 

 but what his buried treasures are a myth. If those 

 Jersey men will devote themselves to planting and 

 then digging sweet potatoes, and such other com- 

 modities as their climate encourages, they will 

 probably be both happier and richer in the end, 

 than if they dug up Coffin's Island, and shovelled it 

 into the Atlantic Ocean. 



Arriving in Portland we find the storm increas- 

 ing; and, as the prospect of the steamboat pro- 

 ceeding farther that night seemed a faint one, we 

 go to the Falmouth Hotel ; and on the morrow 

 take the cars for Bangor and Forest Station, dis- 

 tant about two hundred miles, where we were told 

 a stage would be found to take us across the coun- 

 try to Princeton, distant thirty miles. 



We arrive there at noon ; and find the station 

 and the forest, for which it is so happily named, 

 and nothing else. Oh ! yes, the stage and its 

 driver. 



